A tale of sustainability and fast fashion
Let’s be honest: working on change is messy. And not the cool, artistic kind of messy — more like “what even is this WhatsApp thread and why are there 73 unanswered messages?” messy.
As change-makers, we all know the situation: you’re in a collaboration, the cause is important, but the trust… let’s just say it’s hanging by a fraying thread from a discount rack.
Trust doesn’t usually explode in one big betrayal. No, it breaks like that favorite old t-shirt: quietly, seam by seam, until you suddenly notice half the collar is missing.
I was once in a project to tackle fast fashion waste. Noble goal: less overproduction, more recycling, fewer textile mountains in landfills. We had all the “right” people around the table. At least, that’s what I thought.
And then… the cracks. One person with a big heart who couldn’t take a tough decision if their life depended on it. Another who controlled everything behind the scenes but avoided actual conversations. Promises made, promises dropped. Meetings that dragged on like Netflix series that should have ended three seasons earlier.
And then there was me. Getting more and more focused on how wrong they were. Convincing myself I could do their job better. Seeing them less as partners and more as walking obstacles. I even caught myself thinking: “I’ll just solve this with a one-way WhatsApp rant.” Spoiler: nothing screams trust like spamming people with blue ticks.
That’s how trust usually breaks. Not one grand betrayal. More like death by a thousand tiny papercuts: the unreturned call, the missing report, the meeting where everyone nods but nothing moves. Piece by piece, the thread frays until you wonder:
Can I still move forward in this collaboration, or is the ground too thin to stand on?
In the past, I’ve tried all sorts of things: talk to the person, talk to others, draw boundaries, reduce the dependency, even walk away from collaborations when the trust was just too thin. And under all that? A sneaky wish: that the other person would just be different.
Here’s the raw part: there was hubris in that. I wanted them to change, but me? Oh no, I was obviously fine as I was (cue eye roll). But when I sat with it, I had to admit: when someone looks at me with that hidden judgment — “you’re not good enough until you change” — it hurts. And yet here I was, serving them the same poison. That realization landed with a mix of shame and “ouch, okay ego, you got me.”
If I waited for people to match my ideal standards, I’d probably still be waiting at the bus stop of life, clutching my sustainability action plan. So the real question became: am I willing to work with imperfection if the goal is bigger than the partnership?
And the goal is big. Recently, the EU passed a new regulation for the fashion industry. It’s massive: producers now have to take responsibility for the full life cycle of textiles: covering the costs of collecting, sorting, and recycling. This is no small thing when you consider that every year 12.6 million tons of textile waste are generated in Europe alone. And globally, less than 1% of textiles are recycled. Producing a single cotton t-shirt requires 2,700 liters of water, which is the amount an average person drinks in two and a half years.
So yes, the stakes are high. And I had to remind myself (repeatedly, sometimes hourly): beneath the avoidance, control, and silence, my partners did care. Without that reminder, all I saw were flaws.
One practice that helped me here was Beginning Anew from Plum Village. Not the kind where you sit on a cushion for hours humming mantras. More like: in my head, I’d rehearse five steps:
- Compassion for myself: acknowledging my own pain first
- Watering the good seeds: acknowledging all their virtues and strengths
- Expressing regrets: where I contributed to making the situation worse
- Sharing hurts: expressing my pain in a non accusatory manner
- Asking for support
Half the time I never said it out loud, but even in my mind it softened the judgment. It made me show up differently: listening more without internal commentary, interrupting less, even laughing again in meetings (instead of counting the minutes until lunch).
Because here’s the truth: nobody is fully ready. We’re all walking around with blind spots, childhood conditioning, and egos that act like drama queens. Collaboration will always be messy. The point isn’t to find perfect trust. The point is to build enough trust to move forward, with some good guardrails:
- shared decision-making processes
- clear financial transparency
- role boundaries
These structures create a functional kind of trust. They are like the reinforced stitching that keeps the fabric from tearing completely.
And over and over again, I had to come back to the question:
What is at stake here? What is this really about?
Not my pride, not their quirks, but people and planet. Reducing textile waste. Protecting communities who literally live next to those waste mountains. Shifting an industry addicted to overproduction.
Sometimes, yes, you do have to walk away. When integrity is so shredded you can’t even tell the story straight to yourself — let alone to those impacted — then it’s time to pack up and go.
But more often, it’s about staying. Doing the inner work. Catching yourself when you roll your eyes, when you want to lecture, when you secretly think you’re the smartest person in the room.
- Maybe your reflex is to call a giant meeting (been there, watched it backfire spectacularly).
- Maybe your reflex is to withdraw and ghost the whole project.
- Or maybe, like me, your reflex is to judge and think, “move aside people, I’ll handle it.”
The practice is to walk that thin line instead: not overstepping, not giving up. With humor if you can, snacks if you must.
And yes, take care of yourself in the process: Getting enough sleep, eating good food, spending time in nature, drinking water, nourishing yourself with uplifting and reflective content, whether through memes, social media or books. Because trust issues burn calories too.
The only way out, is in.
–Thich Nhat Hanh
Trust will never be perfect. The work is to keep the cause central, hold just enough trust to keep going, and laugh at the absurdity along the way. Because if we can’t laugh at our messy egos while saving the planet, what’s the point?